The Razbitoe Serdce Affair
by autumnrose2010
Summary: Takes place two years after 'The Gloucester Affair'. When the airplane carrying a renegade THRUSH operative, Trina, and several dozen other passengers explodes in midair, it is assumed that there are no survivors. Illya must put his personal grief aside and concentrate of finding the perpetrators and bringing them to justice. Mild het in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"Agents Solo and Kuryakin, I'd like you to meet our latest recruit, May Walker," Alexander Waverly told Napoleon and Illya. "I know she'll be a valuable asset to our organization."

Illya felt an immediate distaste when he looked at May. The woman had light brown hair that was cut very short, like a man's, and piercing blue eyes that surveyed him suspiciously. To the UNCLE agent, she looked so distinctly unfeminine that he wondered whether she was a lesbian. His native country's culture had always abhorred homosexuality.

"You're from some other country." May's words to Illya following his obligatory greeting sounded cold and almost accusatory.

"Yes," he said curtly.

"Are you a Communist?"

"What if I am?" Illya realized that his tone was brusque, but he didn't care. He resented the fact that this woman he'd just met was already asking him personal questions.

May seemed so totally the opposite of his beloved Trina, who to him had always seemed the epitome of femininity. Illya smiled fondly as he returned home that evening. Trina had been out of town helping to care for her sick father, and she was due home in only a couple of days. Illya couldn't wait to hold her in his arms again and tell her how much he loved her.

* * *

"You've been so much help, Trina," Julie Adams told her daughter. "I don't know how I ever could have made it without you. I know Lydia and Dominik will be so happy to see their mother again."

"I can't wait to see them again...and their father." It wasn't lost on Trina that her mother had failed to mention Illya. She knew how her parents felt about the fact that she was married to a Soviet citizen, and a Communist. It was the one major sore spot in her relationship with them.

"Well, good-bye, dear, and I hope you have a safe trip home," Julie told her daughter. "Be sure and let me know when you get there."

"I will, Mom," Trina promised.

* * *

Reinhardt Gutmann felt smug and self-assured as he boarded the airplane. In the attache case he carried were secrets, documents he planned to sell to UNCLE headquarters in New York City. After years of working for THRUSH and never having received the promotions, glory and accolades he felt he deserved, he'd decided that the organization had been taking him for granted the entire time he'd been with them, that they'd never truly appreciated him, that it was time he switched sides, for a price, of course.

After finding his seat, Reinhardt noticed that he was seated beside an attractive brunette. A quick glance at her left hand revealed that she was wearing a wedding ring, not that that fact had ever deterred Reinhardt in the least in similar encounters in the past. He turned to the young woman and gave her his most charming smile.

"How do you do?" he asked her. "My name is Franz."

"It's nice to meet you," she replied. "I'm Trina."

"You have such a lovely voice," Reinhardt replied. "I hope to enjoy listening to it on our way to New York."

"Thank you." Trina blushed.

"So what does your husband do?" asked Reinhardt.

"He works for an international news agency. He's a photographer. Are you married?"

Reinhardt shook his head. "Too many women, too little time." He chuckled. "Any kids?"

"I have a five-year-old daughter and a two-year-old son. Lydia and Dominik."

Reinhardt nodded silently. Trina, Lydia, and Dominik. Yes, he'd heard those names before.

* * *

"No! Want Mama!" Dominik screamed, pushing Illya away.

The flustered father gave a weary sigh. Almost two weeks of being the one to put his son to bed every night had strained his patience. "I want her too, _malyutka, _but until she gets back from visiting your grandparents, you are stuck with me," he told his son. "Would you like for me to sing the song about the little grey wolf to you again?"

_"Nyet!" _the bilingual toddler howled, throwing his teddy bear out of his crib. Illya shook his head helplessly as he bent to retrieve it. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

"Good morning, tovarisch," Napoleon greeted Illya as he entered UNCLE headquarters the following morning. "Another sleepless night, I take it."

_"Da, _you are correct," the Russian replied. "I cannot wait for Trinochka to return. Domka misses his Mama so."

"I'd imagine someone else misses her just as much, if not more." The American winked at his partner.

"I have never met anyone with as much of a one-track mind as you have, _moy droog," _Illya retorted. Yet he had to admit that his bed had been very cold and lonely since Trina had left. Sometimes he went to sleep hugging her pillow, as her lingering scent brought him comfort, but it was only a poor substitute for actually having her warm body there to cuddle with.

"Speaking of which, I can't wait for this weekend," Napoleon bragged.

"Say what you will, but I know you still miss Elspeth," Illya replied. The pressures of Napoleon's career as an UNCLE agent had sadly proven to be too much for his budding relationship with Elspeth Whittaker to handle.

Napoleon didn't answer, instead pretending to be busy with paperwork on his desk.

That weekend, Illya and his children received a surprise visit from his cousin, Alexei Kolchin, and Alexei's wife, Alison.

"Alexei and Alison are here!" Lydia exclaimed, running to meet her new visitors.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Alison said, giving the little girl a fierce hug, which was a bit awkward with her eight-months-pregnant belly in the way.

"It's almost time for your baby to be born, isn't it?" asked Lydia.

"That's right!" Alison replied. "Just four more weeks!"

"And then Domka and me can play with it!" Lydia said hopefully.

"Oh, no. Not right away." Alison laughed. "Babies are too little to do anything much but sleep and eat when they're first born, but when it's a little bit older, you and your brother can play with it, if you're very gentle."

"And your baby will be half Russian and half American too, just like me and Domka!"

"That's right!"

"She's so precocious," Alison complimented Illya's young daughter.

_"Spasibo. _She is," he agreed.

The Kolchins visited for several hours. After dinner, they were all sitting in the living room watching television when the program they were watching was interrupted by a news bulletin. An airplane headed for New York City had exploded in midair, killing all passengers on board. When the flight's number was mentioned, all the blood drained from Illya's face.

"That was Trina's flight number...' he gasped.

* * *

"Words seem insufficient at a time like this," Napoleon said to his partner and best friend. Illya and all the other family members of the doomed passengers had been officially notified of the disaster, and recovery teams were now sorting through the wreckage and retrieving the bodies and any valuables worth keeping. The remains would be stored in a makeshift morgue at a local hospital until they could all be identified and released to the responsible parties.

"I find it strange that I cannot even cry," Illya remarked. "I feel only numbness, a sense of unreality, as if I know that I will awaken at any moment and find that this has been but a horrible nightmare."

"You and I have both worked with the survivors of victims of tragedies long enough to know that what you feel is typical," Napoleon replied. "Although I realize that that fact gives little consolation when you're going through it yourself."

_"Da," _Illya agreed. Following such a loss, the first reaction was shock, and once the shock wore off, a deep, aching sorrow, a paralyzing grief, would follow. Illya knew the cycle all too well, but for him, the challenge would be to not only manage his own emotions, but also to provide Lydia and Dominik with the comfort and support they would need in the weeks and months to come. They were both much too young to fully grasp the magnitude of what had happened, but as they got older, they would understand much more clearly. Illya would have to be both mother and father to them from now on, and that thought completely overwhelmed him.

The days seemed to pass seamlessly, blending one into another as he went about his daily tasks, doing his routine investigative work as he waited for Mr. Waverly to send him out of town on his next assignment, picking Lydia and Dominik up from child care every evening, patiently answering their questions as best he could, feeding them, playing with them, reading to them, putting them to bed, drying their tears.

When the harsh reality finally hit him, as he'd known it eventually would, it washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to block every other structure from his mind except for the terrible finality of the knowledge that he would never see her face nor hear her voice again, that he'd never hold her hand and walk along the beach with her, that he'd never make love to her and then hold her in his arms until he could hear her gentle snoring, ever again. The crushing grief that brought him was like no pain he'd ever felt before.

Days, or possibly even weeks, he couldn't be sure which, after the tragedy, Mr. Waverly asked to see him in his office. He entered to find that, to his surprise, May Walker had also been summoned.

"The passenger list of the recently destroyed airplane has been released," Mr. Waverly began. "The list includes the name Franz Mueller, which, as you and I know, Mr. Kuryakin, is one of the pseudonyms used by Reinhardt Gutmann, one of the most ruthless operatives of THRUSH. As we all know, Mr. Solo is currently out of town visiting his sick aunt, so I am sending the two of you to the crash site to help with the recovery effort, in case any information related to Mr. Gutmann and his mission turns up."

Illya looked at May in disbelief. How on earth would he be able to endure her company for the length of time it would take for this case to be solved?


	3. Chapter 3

To Illya's surprise, he found May's company strangely comforting as they journeyed to the site of the crash. To have been all alone with his thoughts, memories, and regrets would have been intolerable for him, and May's voice provided a welcome distraction.

"I'm so sorry about your wife," she told him. "I can't even begin to imagine what you must be going through right now."

"We both knew that something like this might eventually happen," Illya replied. "Although of course the greater risk was to me, we knew that her own life was in danger as well. I warned her of the risks from the very beginning, but she loved me enough that she was willing to take her chances anyway." he had to choke back a sob.

"I'll bet you probably found me to be very unfeminine when you first met me, didn't you?" asked May.

"If you prefer to dress and wear your hair like a man, it is no one's business but your own," Illya replied.

"There's a reason," May said softly. Illya looked at her questioningly. "I was only eleven when my stepfather raped me," she continued. "He told my mother that it was my fault, that I'd deliberately seduced him by wearing sexy clothes and flirting with him. She believed him."

"After that, I started dressing and acting like a boy as much as I could. I thought that if I came across as masculine enough, I wouldn't get raped again. And it worked."

"You were not at all to blame for your stepfather's perversion." Anger over May's tragic tale had temporarily replaced Illya's grief. "What he did to you was his fault, not yours. And most of all, it was so very wrong for both of them to let you believe that it was your fault."

"I was only eleven," May replied. "I thought that the adults in my life were always right. A couple of years after that happened, my stepfather and mother were killed in a car accident, and I was sent to live with a foster family. My foster parents were always very kind to me, but I still wouldn't let them get close to me. In high school I never dated or had boyfriends or anything like that. I was too afraid of the opposite sex and what they could do to me, how they could hurt me. When I was offered the chance to join UNCLE, I grasped it eagerly. I thought that being an international law enforcement agent was the most masculine career I could have, that by being as much like a man as possible, I would be safe from them."

"And that is why you have no qualms about traveling alone with me?" asked Illya.

"You're different," said May. "I feel safe around you."

"Because of my small stature? Do not let it fool you. I have killed men much larger than myself with my bare hands."

"No, it isn't that, exactly," May said thoughtfully. "Tell me what it's like behind the Iron Curtain, Illya. Is it true that they shoot you if you say you believe in God?"

"No, that is not true," Illya said indignantly. "Where did you hear such nonsense?"

"At the church my foster parents took me to," May replied. "They told us that Communists hate Christians and torture and kill them and burn their Bibles."

"You should be old enough now to realize that you cannot believe everything you hear," said Illya.

"I know," May said softly. "You know what? You're the first man I've ever felt that I could be myself with, that I could be completely honest with."

"I am glad," Illya said awkwardly.

* * *

Back at his desk at UNCLE headquarters, Napoleon missed the companionship of his partner. He'd suspected all along that THRUSH had been behind the bombing of the airplane Trina had been traveling on, so Mr. Waverly's revelation hadn't exactly come as a surprise to him.

What _had _come as a surprise to him, however, was how utterly the Solo charm had failed to do its legendary magic on the new agent, May Walker. While it was true that Napoleon hadn't found her to be particularly attractive, the coldness with which she'd reacted to his attempts at friendliness was something that was entirely new to him. He suspected that she might secretly be a lesbian. As that subject was completely taboo, he had no way of finding out, yet it would explain how she'd reacted to him, as well as pacifying his ego.

His mind returned to Illya's remark about Elspeth Whittaker. It was true that he missed the young widow. They'd gotten along exceptionally well, and Napoleon had adored her children, Pete and Annie, but Elspeth had wanted more from him than he'd been prepared to give at this point in his life. A very traditional woman, she'd found his long list of casual encounters with women to be daunting and discouraging, and although she'd never to his face called him immoral for behaving as he did, he knew that deep down inside, she'd probably never be able to trust him completely. She also wanted a man who could be there for her any time she needed him, not fighting crime halfway around the world.

In the end, they'd had to admit that a long term relationship between the two of them wouldn't work out, that they were just too different. Perhaps at some time in the future, when circumstances had changed, they'd be able to re-examine their relationship and find more points of compatibility, but not now.

With delicious anticipation, Napoleon thought of the woman he planned to take out on the upcoming weekend. She was a lovely brunette with shapely legs who was part of the secretarial pool. He'd seen her twirling the end of a pencil in her mouth once, and the sight of that had rendered him weak in the knees. Bittersweet memories of Elspeth were quickly forgotten as he eagerly looked forward to a chance to spend time alone with the intriguing woman.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm so glad to see you two," the head of the crew investigating the airplane crash site said to Illya and May. "We found this attache case which we had to blast open. It contains some very peculiar documents that none of us can understand. We suspect that they're more in your league than ours."

As soon as Illya saw the paperwork, he realized that it was exactly the type of plans that THRUSH would come up with.

"I shall have to take these back to the motel to examine them more closely," he said. "If I take half and you take half, we can finish in half the time," he said to May with a grin. She smiled back.

Thirty minutes later, the two sat together in the motel room, carefully examining the documents. As they did so, a deep melancholy fell over Illya. "I cannot help but feel that what we are doing is of no use," he said. "Trina is gone. Nothing we learn about the accident that took her life will bring her back."

"But we _have _to find out what happened!" May exclaimed. "If foul play was involved, and the perpetrators aren't apprehended, who knows what they'll do next!"

"I feel that, with my Trina gone, I have no reason to keep on living," Illya despaired. "She was the light of my life, my joy, my reason for living. How can I go on without her?" Tears came to his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

"But she'd _want _you to go on!" May insisted. "She'd want you to be happy, and more than anything, she'd want you to continue working for UNCLE and bringing criminals to justice. The best way to honor her memory is to keep on doing what you're doing!"

"You are right, I know," Illya conceded. "Yet it is difficult to perform work that you no longer have the heart for."

"As badly as I know you're hurting right now, I envy you," May replied. "At least you've been in love, you've known what it's like to give your heart to another, to experience that powerful bond that lasts a lifetime. That's something I've never experienced. Because of what my stepfather did to me, I've never been able to trust any man enough to let him into my heart."

Illya suddenly saw May in a whole new light. His earlier revulsion was completely forgotten as his heart went out to the lonely, emotionally scarred woman. "Not all of us are like your stepfather," he said tenderly. "I myself would rather die than to do what he did."

"You're such a good man, Illya," said May. "Trina was a very lucky woman to have had you in her life." He saw that she was crying now, tears dripping from her face. It seemed only natural for him to place his hands on either side of her head and tenderly kiss them away. Somehow he reached her lips, and the passion with which she responded flooded his body with a desire he'd thought he'd never feel again.

* * *

"May and I went over all the documents in the attache case," Illya told Napoleon. "And they are most definitely plans created by THRUSH for various diabolical schemes around the world. That fact lends credence to the theory that the crash was deliberate. It is my guess that a double agent was involved."

"It certainly sounds that way," Napoleon agreed. "Fear of betrayal would explain the motive. If that could be proven to have been the case, then all that would be left would be to determine what person, or persons, rigged the airplane with the detonation device."

"Which would be, of course, easier said than done." Illya sighed, disgusted with himself for what had happened between himself and May. He couldn't believe that his wife had been dead for less than a month and he'd already made love to another woman. Never in a million years would he have ever expected that to have happened. How on earth could he have let it? Even though Trina was gone, he felt as if he'd betrayed her.

Did the God his wife had believed in really exist, after all? Was there a heaven? Was the woman he loved now in some hidden place far above him, looking down on him and the children? If so, did she know what he'd done with May?

"I'm so sorry, Trinochka," he sobbed. "I never meant for it to happen. I honestly don't know why it did. Can you ever forgive me?"

The only response from above was silence.

* * *

Despite the sympathy he felt for his partner over the latter's profound loss, Napoleon also felt excited as he hung up the telephone. The fact that Illya and, therefore, UNCLE, now had access to so many THRUSH plans meant that they could be nipped in the bud before they could be implemented. The irony that the acquisition of such information had come at the price of such devastating loss for Illya wasn't lost on the American. He hoped that the gain of such an advantage over THRUSH would somehow work to salve his partner's grief.

* * *

Trina wasn't sure where she was at first. She remembered being on the airplane, and the explosion, but after that, her mind was a total blank. Had she died? Was this heaven?

She found herself in a meadow, with green grass all around her for as far in the distance as she could see. A feeling of incredible peace washed over her, but she soon realized that she wasn't alone. The leering face of the man on the airplane who'd introduced himself to her as Franz loomed before her, and he didn't look nearly as friendly as he had before.


	5. Chapter 5

"What happened?" she asked.

"The airplane blew up," he told her. "I knew something like that was likely to happen, so I was prepared when I boarded it. As soon as I realized what was happening, I parachuted to safety."

"Then how did I survive?"

"We parachuted together."

"Why can't I remember that?"

"You were knocked unconscious. I fastened us together."

"You saved my life, then."

"Don't worry about that. You're going to pay me back...with interest."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Trina was suddenly very afraid.

"I know who your husband is, Mrs. Kuryakin. Until very recently, I belonged to an organization which his own vehemently opposed. However, I've decided to switch sides. My purpose in traveling to New York City was to offer certain documents of keen interest to the UNCLE organization in exchange for financial compensation. I regret to say that the documents were lost or destroyed along with the airplane, but that does not matter now."

"Why not?" Trina's heart was in her throat.

"Why, because I have you now, of course!"

* * *

"The bodies of all the passengers who were killed on the doomed airplane have been identified," the chief investigator of the bombing told Napoleon and Illya. "However, there are still two bodies missing: those of Franz Mueller and Trina Kuryakin."

A thrill of excitement went through Illya at the sound of his wife's name. Could Trina possibly still be alive, after all? How could anyone have possibly survived an explosion of that magnitude?

"It's possible, then, that Gutmann placed the bomb himself, and then parachuted to safety before it was set to go off," Napoleon said to his partner after the investigator had left.

"But if that were the case, what would have become of Trina?" asked Illya.

"That's the true mystery," Napoleon replied.

Although the love he felt for his wife had never wavered, Illya couldn't help but wonder what the possible ramifications of his one act of passion with May would be if it turned out that Trina was still alive, after all. Since their return to UNCLE headquarters, the two agents had been tiptoeing around the subject, and each other. For Illya, the idea of a new relationship so soon after the loss of his wife was absolutely unthinkable. May seemed to realize that, and to keep a respectful distance. They both tried very hard to act is if the incident had never happened. Could they continue to act that way indefinitely? Illya was sure that Trina would be devastated if she ever found out. Would he be able to keep her from ever suspecting anything, ever?

* * *

Back at THRUSH headquarters, Oscar Himmler was in an uproar. He'd been smugly satisfied, certain that the bomb he'd placed on the airplane had eliminated the would-be traitor, until recent news had revealed that Reinhardt Gutmann may have survived the explosion, after all. The thought that Gutmann may not only still be alive but might still have the THRUSH documents he'd stolen in his possession was more than Himmler could take. _If he **is **still alive, he won_'t _be for long, _Himmler swore to himself.

* * *

Trina listened to the loud snoring of her captor and realized that, at least temporarily, the nightmare was over. For several terror-filled hours, the brute had had his way with her, subjecting her to any number of perversions before finally falling into a sated slumber.

Trina herself hadn't slept a wink. For a long time, she'd sobbed, longing for the arms of the man she loved, for the hugs and kisses of her babies. Would she ever see Illya or the children again? How she longed to tell them how much she loved and missed them!

Suddenly it occurred to her that Franz had forgotten to restrain her before falling asleep. If she could somehow escape without awakening him, she'd be free! The knowledge that she'd still have to somehow find her way back to civilization occurred to her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, deciding to worry about it later.

She'd been gone for about thirty minutes when she heard the sound of feet crunching on fallen leaves and twigs behind her and, terrified, broke into a desperate run, until she heard the sound of a warning shot coming from less than a quarter of a mile behind her and froze.

* * *

Illya had left UNCLE headquarters and was on his way to the child care center to pick Lydia and Dominik up when he heard someone shout to him. "Kuryakin!"

He turned to see Trina standing beside Gutmann, who had a pistol pressed up against her head.

"I'm prepared to make a bargain with you, Kuryakin," said Gutmann. "Your wife's life for the return of the documents that were lost on the airplane, or appropriate financial compensation if that is not possible."

Before Illya had time to respond, a shot rang out, and Gutmann lay dead on the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

A second later, a second shot rang out from behind Illya, and Oscar Himmler fell dead a few feet behind his victim. Illya turned to see Napoleon standing a few feet behind him, holding the gun which had taken Himmler's life. A moment later, Trina's arms were around him, and he held her tightly, too shocked by the sudden turn of events to say anything at first.

"Can't beat two for the price of one," Napoleon quipped as he approached his partner.

"Trinochka! Are you all right?" Illya anxiously asked his wife.

"He made me do...things...horrible things..." Trina sobbed.

"What kind of horrible things?" Illya asked, wondering whether Gutmann had forced his wife to participate in THRUSH activities.

Trina only sobbed harder, and Illya understood. As he held his wife and attempted to comfort her, images of the brutality Gutmann had subjected sweet, innocent Trina to bombarded his mind. He tried desperately to suppress them, knowing that his anger would be of no benefit to the woman he loved.

"He is gone now, Trinochka," he murmured into her hair. "He cannot hurt you anymore. It is all over, _lyubimaya."_

Tenderly he kissed her face over and over again, until her sobs dwindled to sniffles. "We must go now," he told her gently. "It is time to pick Lydia and Domka up from child care."

"Oh, my babies!" Trina exclaimed. "Are they all right?"

"They are fine, _lyubov moya." _He grinned. "They will be so very happy to see you again."

Within moments, the couple arrived at the child care center. Lydia and Dominik saw their mother and ran to her with cries of joy. Illya stood grinning broadly as Trina held her children and showered them with kisses. After many long moments, the happy little family walked the short distance back to their apartment.

"Oh, it's so good to be home again!" Trina exclaimed, dancing into the living room and then flitting from room to room, peeking into the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom.

"Everything is just as you left it," Illya told her.

She finished her brief tour and returned to him. They clasped hands and gazed into one another's eyes. "My Trinochka," Illya said softly. "I never thought that I would see you again, and now that I have, I never want to let you go."

"I'm hungry, Papa!" Lydia called, breaking the intimacy of the moment.

"Be patient, _malenkaya_ _docha_, and I shall soon prepare dinner for us all," Illya told his daughter.

"You must be starving," he said to Trina. In truth, she had subsisted upon whatever berries and grubs she'd been able to forage for while under Gutmann's control, but she wasn't about to admit that to Illya. She knew he was worried enough about her.

She was so busy enjoying the company of her children that she barely noticed when Illya put the food on the table, but when the aroma of the steaming hot meat and vegetables assailed her nostrils, she fairly drooled, and when her husband served her a generous helping, she was so eager to have it in her mouth that she forgot to cool it first and burned her tongue.

"Slow down!" Illya laughed affectionately. "It is not going anywhere!"

When the meal was over, Illya began to clear away the dishes. Trina tried to help him, but he quickly stopped her. "No! I will do all the work myself. You sit and rest."

The children were so happy to see their mother again that they refused to leave her side even to take baths and get ready for bed, and they both fell asleep in her arms. Gently Illya took each of them into his arms in turn and carried them to bed, then drew a bath for Trina and helped her to undress, then helped her into the tub and began to bathe her himself.

"Oh, this is heaven!" she moaned as her husband's loving ministrations gently wiped away the sweat and grime that had accumulated during her time of captivity. At one point, he parted her legs and began to wash her most intimate parts. He winced as he wiped away dried blood.

"My God," he whispered. Struggling to control his emotions, he somehow finished bathing Trina, helped her out of the tub, dried her off, and helped her into a fresh nightgown and clean panties. Then he tucked her into bed before preparing to retire himself.

She was already asleep by the time he slipped between the sheets himself. Gently, so as not to awaken her, he took her into his arms and went to sleep holding her as if he never wanted to let go.

* * *

After calling Mr. Waverly to make sure that he wasn't needed at the office, Illya spent the day at home, caring for his children and cleaning up around the house. Trina slept until almost noon. Knowing that she needed her rest, Illya let her sleep, checking on her from time to time.

At about eleven thirty, she began to stir and then opened her eyes to see Illya sitting on the side of her bed.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said with a big grin.

"Illya!" She grinned herself as she sat up in bed. "I'm really home, aren't I? It's not a dream?"

"No, it is not a dream." Illya laughed and took her into his arms.

Over the next few days, life slowly returned to normal for the Kuryakins. Illya went back to his normal duties at UNCLE headquarters, and Trina cared for her children. However, as strongly as Illya desired his wife, he hesitated to initiate intimate relations with her. Knowing how she'd suffered at the hands of Gutmann, he feared traumatizing her further.

One night he was sitting up in bed reading a scientific periodical when he felt the softness of his wife's touch as her hand slowly slid down the side of his body, coming to rest between his legs. Surprised, he turned to look at her.

"I miss you," she said. "Don't you want me anymore?"

"Of _course _I want you!" Illya exclaimed. "It is simply that...I did not know how you would feel about it after..."

"What he did to me was horrible," Trina agreed. "But it didn't change the way I feel about you! I still want you, Illyusha. I miss the way things used to be between us..."

It always melted his heart when she called him by his Russian nickname, now even more so than ever. Desire surged through his body as he began to kiss and caress her, and she responded eagerly to his advances. Slipping his fingers between her legs, he found that, to his delight, she was slick with desire. His fingers stimulated her most sensitive spot until she was moaning and writhing, begging him not to stop.

Fearing possible incompletely healed internal injuries, he entered her slowly and with utmost care, but the enthusiasm with which she responded assured him that he had nothing to worry about.

Afterwards they lay in one another's arms drowsily. "I'm so glad everything's finally back to normal again," said Trina.

"As am I," Illya replied. "I love you so very much, Trinochka."

"I love you too," she yawned. He chucked affectionately, squeezing her tightly as he kissed her forehead. Within seconds, they were both asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Life for the Kuryakins couldn't have been more perfect. When Illya left UNCLE headquarters every evening, he eagerly looked forward to the aroma of Trina's delicious cooking and the joyful whoops of Lydia and Dominik as they ran to meet him.

In the meantime, a joyful event occurred in the lives of Illya's cousin Alexei and his wife Alison. The blond agent was relaxing on the sofa after work one evening when his cousin called him from the hospital.

"Our son is here!" the younger man exclaimed excitedly. "His name is Alexander Alexeievich Kolchin. He was born at a little after eight o'clock this morning, and he weighs four kilograms."

"Congratulations, _moy dvoyurodnyy brat!" _Illya exclaimed. "I am so happy for you! How is Alison?"

"She is fine. Just a little bit tired. And how is your Trinochka? Is she still doing all right?"

"She is fine. She has recovered well from her ordeal. She is a very strong and courageous woman, and I love her now even more than I ever did before."

Illya went to the hospital to visit Alison and her new son. He arrived to find her sitting up in bed, smiling and holding the sleeping infant, while her husband sat proudly at her side, grinning broadly.

"Would you like to hold him?" Alison asked Illya. Her eyes twinkled happily, and her face framed by damp blonde hair had a radiant glow.

The UNCLE agent took the small, warm bundle into his arms and looked into the tiny red face. Little Alexander so reminded him of Dominik as a newborn that he felt a tiny ache inside. The perfect little face grimaced as a balled fist came loose from the blanket in which the newborn was swaddled.

"He is beautiful!" Illya breathed.

"Thank you," said Alexei as he and Alison clasped hands, smiling adoringly at one another.

Illya felt just a little sad as he left the hospital. He couldn't quite put his finger on the reason. Trina smiled and greeted him as he entered the apartment, wearily tucking a loose strand of dark brown hair behind one ear. "I just got Domka settled for the night," she explained. "How did it go?"

"It went well. Alison is fine. He is a beautiful baby." Illya sighed. The sadness he saw in Trina's eyes told him she'd picked up on his melancholy.

"I'm sorry, Illyusha," she said softly. "I wish that I could give you another child."

"You have given me two beautiful children, Trinochka. That is all any man could ask for."

"But...'

He silenced her with a kiss.

Little did either of them know how quickly their lives were about to be turned upside down.

* * *

The day started like any other day. Illya had spent most of a slow morning catching up on lab work and organizing his notes when May Walker stuck her head into the room, a look of sheer panic on her face. Illya felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Please come in, May," he said cordially. "Can I help you?"

"I need to speak to you right away, Illya."

"By all means." Illya stood and locked the door so that they wouldn't be interrupted. "What is wrong, my friend?"

"Illya, that time in the motel room...'

The Russian felt his heart sink. "Please do not tell me..."

May nodded miserably. "I am."

"Dear God," Illya said softly. He knew that this was the number one reason UNCLE disliked using female employees as Section II agents. May's career could well be over, and it would be as much his fault as hers. And that was the least of his worries...

"What am I gonna do?" May looked at him with sorrowful eyes.

"I do not know." Illya's mind was spinning as he struggled to grasp the reality of the situation. "I suppose it would be best if you...got rid of it. I will pay, of course."

"I know a woman who did that!" May's eyes widened in fear. "She went to some guy in a back alley who claimed to be a doctor. He punctured her womb, and she bled to death."

"In countries where it is legal, such as my own, it is a very safe, relatively minor surgical procedure," Illya said thoughtfully.

"You know that by the time I got the necessary documentation, it would be far too late," May pointed out.

"There are other countries," Illya continued. "Sweden, I believe..."

"Why don't you and Trina take it and raise it as your own?" May suddenly suggested. "She can't have any more children, can she?"

"No, she cannot..."

"Well, then, that would be the perfect solution, wouldn't it? I'll keep working for as long as I can, then take a few weeks off on 'unofficial business.' Nobody will ever have to know anything."

"But what will I tell Trina?"

"Tell her that, through UNCLE, you've learned of a soon-to-be-born baby who needs an adoptive home.'

Illya shook his head. "I cannot deceive my Trinochka like that, May. I love her too much."

"But what she doesn't know won't hurt her, and you'll be providing a home for a fatherless baby and giving her the chance to be a mother again. If it makes her happy, it won't really matter where the baby came from, will it?"

"I am not so sure about that, May." Illya began to pace back and forth restlessly, like a caged animal. "I just do not know if I would be able to go through with it."


	8. Chapter 8

Illya fretted over what to do about the new development all afternoon, finally deciding that he could never be anything less than completely honest with Trina. The realization of how badly it would hurt her bothered him greatly, but he couldn't think of any way around that.

"Illyusha!" Trina greeted him when he arrived home that evening. The site of her trusting face, a few stray hairs billowing around it like dancing fairies, made his heart swell with love for her and the task ahead of him that much more difficult.

"Trinochka!" he exclaimed, hugging her tightly and kissing her lips. He held her close a bit longer than he normally did, inhaling her scent and thinking about how recently he'd believed it to have been lost to him forever.

"Papa's home! Papa's home!" Lydia chanted merrily as she skipped down the hall with her younger brother right at her heels.

Somehow Illya managed to keep the conversation on trivial matters over dinner, and playing with his children afterwards helped to take his mind off his troubles, until almost before he realized it, it was nearly bedtime, the children had been settled down for the night, and he knew that he could postpone it no more.

"Trinochka," he said, walking into the bedroom, where his wife sat in bed reading and waiting for him. "There is a matter of great importance that I must discuss with you."

Trina's face immediately clouded with apprehension. "What's wrong?"

"Before I begin, please understand that you are the only woman I will ever love, Trinochka, and nothing will ever change that."

Trina's expression changed from one of apprehension to one of bewilderment.

"You know, Trinochka, that UNCLE has recently hired a new section II agent, a woman named May Walker," Illya began. "May and I were assigned to investigate the airplane crash together. I realize now that it was a mistake, but I went to a motel room with her to examine the contents of a briefcase that had been recovered from the scene. Our conversation eventually turned to personal matters, and she told me intimate details of her early life that touched me deeply. I did not intend for it to happen, _lyubov moya; _truly, I did not. I do not know what came over me, but it did happen, and as a result, a child was conceived."

Illya would have given anything in the world not to have had to see the look of devastation on his wife's face. She buried her face in her pillow and sobbed as if her heart would break. As much as he longed to hold and comfort her, he knew that she wouldn't be receptive to that right now, so with a heavy sigh, he lay down and tried unsuccessfully to go to sleep.

Trina acted as if he weren't there the following morning, and when he returned from work that evening, the apartment was empty, and there was a letter on the table.

_Illya,_

_I have taken the children and gone to stay with my parents. Don't come after us, and don't try to contact me. I'll be in touch later regarding arrangements for the division of property and visitation and support of the children. _

_Trina_

Illya took a bottle of vodka from the cabinet, fully intending to drink himself senseless.

* * *

Napoleon took one look at his partner's swollen, red-rimmed eyes and knew that the Russian had had a rough night. "Do you want to talk about it, my friend?" he asked.

"She is gone," Illya replied.

"Gone?" Napoleon's eyes widened in surprise.

Illya nodded. "She has taken the children and gone to her parents. She told me not to contact her."

"Does this have anything to do with May?" asked Napoleon.

_"Da. _When we were investigating the airplane crash together, I made the mistake of going to a motel room with her to look over the THRUSH documents. While we were doing so, we began to talk about intimate subjects. One thing led to another, and we ended up making love. Yesterday, May told me that she is pregnant with my child."

Napoleon gave a low whistle.

"May thought it would be best if Trinochka and I took the child in and raised it as our own," Illya continued. "She suggested I tell Trina that the child was a foundling of unknown parentage, but I knew that I could never be dishonest with my Trinochka. I told her the truth, and she left."

Napoleon didn't reply for a long time. "Well, it certainly sounds as if you've gotten yourself into a real predicament, _moy drug," _he said at last.

* * *

"Grandma! Grandma!" Lydia and Dominik shouted excitedly as they raced to meet their grandmother, who was standing on the front porch.

"What happened, dear?" Julie Adams asked her daughter.

"I've left Illya," Trina told her mother.

"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that you've finally come to your senses," Julie replied. "Come on in. You can stay for as long as you need to. There's plenty of room."

Trina felt a mixture of relief and regret as she entered the familiar house. She couldn't stop replaying the events of the past few weeks over and over in her mind. Illya had been so loving, so kind and attentive to her ever since they'd been reunited, while the entire time, he'd harbored the secret of his passionate interlude with May in the motel. If he really loved her, how could he have done it? True, he had thought that she was dead at the time, but if he'd truly been grieving for her, how could he have given into temptation so easily? Had he even really loved her at all, ever?

She wished that she could say that her love for him had died with his confession, but it hadn't. However badly he'd hurt her, he still owned her heart, and she knew that he probably always would.


	9. Chapter 9

Illya felt nauseated as he saw that May was sticking her head into the door of the room he occupied once more, indicating that she needed to speak to him in private again. To prevent himself from treating her brusquely, he reminded himself that he was every bit as much to blame for what had happened as she was.

"Come in, May," he said dispassionately, going to the door and opening it the rest of the way so that she could enter.

"Did you tell Trina yet?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes."

"And what did she say?"

"She has taken the children and left me."

"Oh, no!" May exclaimed. "So what shall we do about the baby?"

"God, May, I don't know!" Illya began to pace back and forth restlessly. He knew that with his professional responsibilities, there was no way in the world he could be a single father to an infant, and neither could May be a single mother. Yet the idea of divorcing Trina and marrying May totally repulsed him. He knew that he'd rather die than divorce Trina. Even if she never returned to him, he'd always love her.

"We don't have to do anything at all right now," May pointed out. "It'll be a few months before I even start to show."

"I know." The thought gave Illya little comfort.

* * *

Trina and the children quickly adjusted to life with her parents. Although Lydia and Dominik missed their father and kept asking when they'd see him again, their grandparents showered them with so much love and affection that they were soon quite happy with their new living arrangement.

"You need to file for divorce as soon as possible," Julie Adams pressured her daughter. "That's the only way you'll get guaranteed alimony and child support."

"There's no hurry," Trina protested. "I know Illya will take care of us."

Sometimes at night she dreamed that she was lying in his arms, only to awaken and feel bitterly disappointed to find herself alone. Yet she knew that she could never return to her husband with things being the way they were now. How could she live with Illya, knowing that somewhere in the world was a child who bore his genes mingled with those of another woman who wasn't her? Every time she was out in public and saw a child who resembled her husband even slightly, she'd wonder if that was indeed his child. She knew that she couldn't live like that. Yet how much longer could she keep living without him?

* * *

When the New York City policeman first saw the man's limp body, he thought for sure that he was dead. He'd been very badly beaten, and blood flowed from various places on his slight form. His longish dirty blond hair was caked with blood, and his eyes were closed. His arms and legs were splayed at awkward angles. The policeman pressed two fingers against the man's jugular vein and was surprised to detect a weak pulse. He radioed for an ambulance right away.

* * *

Trina was folding laundry in her bedroom at her parents' house when her mother came in the room to tell her that she had a telephone call. "It's Napoleon Solo," Julie told her daughter. "He says it's urgent."

Trina took the receiver from her mother. "Napoleon?" she asked, surprised.

"Trina, Illya has been severely beaten," Napoleon told her. "A policeman found him lying near death in an alley between Headquarters and his apartment in the early morning hours. So far there are no suspects, but I'm sure it was a THRUSH operative seeking revenge. Illya is lying in the emergency room fighting for his life as we speak."

"I know that you and Illya have been having problems lately," Napoleon continued gently. "But I thought you might want to know what happened. At the very least, the children have the right to know. He _is _their father, after all."

"Oh, God!" Trina felt all the blood drain from her face. "I'll be there as soon as I can!" she told Napoleon.

Quickly she hung up the telephone and went to talk to her mother. "I must go to New York City right away," she told Julie. "Illya's been badly beaten. He might die."

Somehow Trina was able to hold back the tears as she hugged and kissed Lydia and Dominik good-bye. "Dear God, please let him live at least until I get there!" she prayed as she left her parents' house.


End file.
